


The Tide Jewels

by LadyAniko



Series: Zutara December Drabbles 2020 [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Avatar (Avatar TV), Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Bloodbending (Avatar), Conflicted Zuko, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Something certainly, F/M, Gritty, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Pirate Katara, Pirates, Rival Relationship, Rival Sex, Sex, Sort Of, pirate zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAniko/pseuds/LadyAniko
Summary: Since his banishment, the war has raged on, and Zuko has had to become a pirate to survive. But a letter from his father may give him the chance to restore the honor he'd thought was lost forever. Unfortunately, a powerful rival pirate named Katara is intent that Zuko doesn't achieve his goal.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zutara December Drabbles 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037787
Comments: 37
Kudos: 158
Collections: ZK Drabble December 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge for myself to not only create a multichapter out of some of the Zutara December Drabble prompts, but also to create a story with fewer words that still had some plot to it. Every chapter I tried to remain under 1k. I am historically pretty atrocious at being brief, so my official limit for myself was 1.5k. I think I managed it.
> 
> I hope this strange little story is enjoyable because it was quite fun to write.☺️
> 
> Chapter One is for the day 9 prompt: Lock and Key

* * *

Who would place all of their hopes in the treasured objects of legend; a mere myth?

The answer—

Those with the power and resources to search for them.

But also—

The truly desperate.

* * *

Zuko is minding his own business and getting well and drunk at this absolute shit hole of a bar, the one located inside his crew’s favorite whore house on the docks of Whaletail Island. It’s a place that he finds extremely distasteful and always has, but unfortunately he also finds it a very necessary place for keeping morale in his men high. The disgusting simpletons.

Suddenly, someone plunks into the stool beside him.

He knows they’re staring. He’s very sensitive to eyes lingering on _that_ side of his face.

They burn a hole in his face with their gaze for so long that he finally has to acknowledge their presence. Scowling, he whirls on the stool to face them and blinks in surprise when he comes face-to-face with a woman, and a beautiful one at that.

She’s wearing clothes typical of one of the water tribes. Probably the southern one, since that’s closer. Her hair is brown and long and wavy, her eyes large and blue, and for a time long enough to be embarrassing Zuko just gawks at her before remembering himself and dropping his eyes. Sometimes the women here try and get him to pay for them without him asking, and it’s always incredibly annoying. This must be one of those situations, though he can’t imagine why she would be dressed that way.

Did enough of the men coming through here have a water tribe fetish for it to be in demand?

How sad.

“No thanks,” he snaps, before his eyes snag and then stay on a black mark on her wrist. The tattoo of a pirate.

He stares at it for a long moment, mouth hanging open, before he glances up to see her looking very entertained at his obvious confusion. “I know who you are,” she says. “Your father is the fucking asshole taking over the world and currently planning to invade my sister tribe up north.”

Zuko just blinks at her.

“Isn’t that right, Prince Zuko?” she prompts, a wide smile suddenly spreading across her lovely face. It's a breathtakingly charming smile. But her eyes—they make him wary. Full of plans and motivations and secrets.

 _I_ _would_ _ruin you,_ they seemed to say. _And by the time I_ _would_ _you’_ _d_ _be asking me to._

A prickle of warning rustles in Zuko’s mind.

“That’s right,” he finally says, very bitterly. “Though technically I’m not a prince anymore. But I’m sure you know that too.”

“I do,” she says. “I know quite a lot of things about you.” She gently grazes the tattoo on his wrist that matches hers, and he jumps. “You became a pirate after your banishment, didn’t you? Quite a good one, from what I’ve heard. Own almost the entire southern and eastern waters now, isn’t that right?”

“Who are you?” Zuko asks, supremely irritated.

She smiles. “I’m Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” she says, “I’ve survived despite all the odds, and I’m the one who _actually_ runs these waters.” She reaches over, snatches his drink deftly from his fingers, and drains it, grinning at his sputtered outrage. “Best that you don’t forget that, Prince Zuko,” she tells him, getting to her feet. “Even if you think you’re ahead of me, I’m always, _always_ one step ahead.”

And with that she blows him a kiss, winks, and saunters away from the bar, leaving Zuko gaping at the seat she’d just vacated.

* * *

There’s a rap on his door two weeks later, while ported at some other dock and as he strategically pours over maps in his quarters.

“Yes?” Zuko doesn’t look up when the door swings open.

“Captain Zuko.” It’s the voice of his sentry. “A messenger hawk has arrived for you from Fire Lord Ozai.”

Zuko’s head snaps up. “What?” His hand whips out, nearly rips the parchment in two in his haste to have it, to unfurl it and read it. He’s not had correspondence with his father since he was banished so many years ago. Eight, to be precise. And Zuko does remember it precisely.

His eyes scan it wildly, sentences popping out of the page, imprinting in his brain and filling him with a staggering, excruciating hope.

… _perhaps a way for you to restore your honor after all these years after all…_

… _need your help, Zuko…_

… _must remain secret…_

… _the tide jewels…_

… _out at sea, beyond the Western Air Temple, in uncharted waters…_

… _under lock and key, the location of which is a secret heavily guarded by a creature known as the Sea God, the Dragon God…_

… _if legends are to be believed, I can use them to control the tides, to defeat the Northern Water Tribe, my final stronghold in this war…_

… _you would be a hero, Zuko…_

… _welcomed back with open arms, your honor fully restored…_

“Captain? Captain Zuko?”

Zuko jolts, realizing he’d been staring at the parchment for at least three full minutes. He feels lightheaded.

“Ready the ship for departure,” he says hoarsely, rising to his feet. “And find me any and all information about the legend of the tide jewels.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zutara Drabble December Day 10 Prompt: Featherlight

* * *

Zuko is now at port somewhere on one of the islands surrounding the Western Air Temple.

He’s taking a break from his stacks of parchment and mountains of research to have a drink. He’s not sure if the bar at this port is more or less depressing than his crew’s usual haunt on Whaletail Island. It’s classier, certainly, but there are so few people that it’s a little too eerie for Zuko’s tastes. Up until this point had been the easy part of the journey. Tomorrow he heads out into the open ocean, toward the uncharted waters and the uncertainty of legend. His honor, his throne, his father’s love.

All within reach, after eight long years of being irredeemable.

To his horror, someone slides into the stool beside him again. Somehow he knows who it is without even looking.

“Yes,” says Katara, “It’s me again.”

“What do you want?” Zuko snaps.

“You mean you aren’t glad to see me?” Katara clicks her tongue. “And here I thought we bonded so well last time.”

“What. do. you. want.” Zuko’s teeth are grinding so hard it wouldn’t be surprising if he cracks some of them. It's definitely painful. He also finds he has a hard time looking at her. Those eyes, with their beauty and obvious wit. That air of alluring innocence, all a pretense, barely disguising something perilous. As if being around her is just a gigantic risk. Worst of all is that he feels the strangest pull to trust her, despite knowing she isn't trustworthy at all.

He blames it on her looks. That’s probably how she tricks most people—by giving them the doe eyes.

Zuko curls his fingers determinedly around his drink. Well, it won't work on him.

“I want to know where you’re going,” she says simply.

“You’ve been following me?” He frowns into his drink before taking another swig.

“Oh yes,” says Katara cheerfully. “You seemed to go off in a hurry, so I’m always curious as to what a potential rival is doing.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow and finally steels himself to look fully at her. “ _Potential_ rival? Did you not come talk to me just to assert your dominance last time? Is that not what rivals do? How is it just _potential_?”

“That’s true,” she says, nodding. “But perhaps we could work together.”

Zuko scowls. “What are you talking about?”

Katara the potential rival pirate folds her arms and watches him carefully. “You got a messenger hawk, didn’t you? Was it your father?”

“None of your business,” Zuko says harshly, though something twists his gut that he doesn’t want to think about.

“I think it is,” Katara says. “Because I have a hunch he wants you to help destroy my sister tribe. And you see, I can’t let that happen.”

Zuko keeps his face carefully neutral. “You’re a pirate now. What do you care about the squabbling of nations?”

“I could ask you the same.” Her voice is harder now, the lilting tease in her tone having vanished. “But I suspect it’s for similar reasons as you. You didn’t want to be a pirate, did you? Do you think I did? Do you think I would be here if your nation hadn’t destroyed almost everything? Do you think any of the southerners would have willingly gone up north to be in hiding, had they not come to destroy the rest of us?” She's furious now; her eyes are blazing. “No. No, Prince Zuko. I am here because I wanted to fight back, not just survive. I will get my home back, and I won’t see my second one destroyed.” She leans forward, her eyes flashing. “Tell me what he wants.”

“No.”

He expects her to react with anger. He does not expect her to reach out and touch his wrist.

Zuko jumps, but he doesn’t pull away. He almost feels like he can’t. Her touch is soothing. Heart pounding wildly, he turns to look at her.

“Why would you serve someone,” Katara says, almost sadly, “that would hurt you so, Prince Zuko?”

Katara reaches up, her fingers tentative. There’s a lump in Zuko’s throat. He should stop her. He stops everyone else. He’s always stopped everyone who has ever tried to touch it. But he doesn’t. He has no idea why, but he lets her reach out and gently put her hand over his scar. Her touch is light as feathers, barely there, ghosting the rubbery flesh that stretches across his face.

Her eyes are no longer playful or mischievous. They no longer make him wary. They are only full of compassion.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and it’s when he realizes just how much she really means it that Zuko wrenches away.

He’s breathing like he’s just run miles. “You don’t know anything about me,” he mutters.

He hears her sigh. And then the wrenching of the stool as she gets to her feet. Again, she brushes his skin lightly with her fingertips, this time right on his pirate tattoo. “Perhaps not,” she agrees. “I see this was a waste of time. You are not interested in being allies—then rivals it is.” And then she’s leaving the bar, and Zuko turns to watch her go, his eyes slowly narrowing.

She can tail him all this way, can she? Watch all of his movements? Well, it’s time she gets a taste of her own medicine.

He drains his drink, stands up, and begins striding purposefully after her.

Zuko follows her carefully. Quietly. He knows how to follow someone and not be noticed. It’s one of his biggest strengths.

Katara peeks over her shoulder every once in a while, clearly expecting him to follow. But he’s expecting her to be looking, so he’s sure to only follow her for blips of time, brief seconds, before darting to hide behind something when she inevitably glances over her shoulder again. She’s very cautious. But Zuko knows how to tail even the most cautious.

She seems to be headed for his ship. As soon as he notices this he clenches his jaw and speeds up his pace.

He knows exactly what she’s planning.

It takes her less time to get onto his ship than it does for him. He has to walk up the long way, by way of the dock and then hurry along the ramp and up the deck. She had water-bent herself out from shore, expertly riding a quiet wave before using her powers to raise the water higher, bringing her instantly aboard. Zuko can see her in the distance, how she easily disarms the guards he has stationed to watch his ship with a few casual flicks of her wrist and a shower of cutting water spikes.

Zuko had clearly not been wrong that she is dangerous.

He speeds up.

He knows where she’ll be headed—his Captain’s quarters. If she knows about his messenger hawk then no doubt she will be looking for information about what Zuko is doing for his father. He cannot let her reach it. He starts to sprint, impatiently yanking the spikes out of the guards along the way. They drop down from the wall they’d been pinned to and stagger, nearly falling down, but Zuko does not slow down. “Follow me,” he hisses over his shoulder at them. “Quietly. And hurry up!”

As they approach his door, they can see that it’s already been busted open, the lock frozen into ice and then smashed.

When they burst through the doorway, arms up, Katara is at his desk. Her eyes had been scanning the parchment, the one Zuko keeps right on his desk and really wishes he hadn’t. Sometimes it just helped him believe it was all real—that his father had written to him after all and it isn’t all a dream. But upon their entry she jumps and looks up, her blue eyes wide.

Her face scrunches, and she raises her arms to launch an attack, but it’s too late.

With sharp jabs and kicks, Zuko and his guards have her surrounded and subdued, her arms twisted behind her back. The other guard leaps forward proudly and, carefully pulling her hands to her front again even as she struggles, cuffs her wrists. Furiously, Katara uses her fingers to flick a glass of water on Zuko’s desk, but he anticipates this and darts out and catches it before it falls all over his maps.

But the cuffs restrict her movements enough that she can’t attack, and she soon stops struggling and hangs her head in defeat.

“Shall we chain her up with her arms spread, Captain? To prevent any bending?”

Katara is glaring at him. Zuko smirks.

“No,” he says. “Keep her cuffed like this. It’s no threat. If she wants to spill the water we bring her in her prison cell, so be it.”

“The tide jewels,” Katara says scathingly, as they tug on her arm. Her eyes are blazing, intent upon his. “As if you’ll ever find them.”

“I currently seem to have more of a chance than you,” he says, smugly, and she scowls deeper as the guards lead her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come join me in the void, if you so desire](https://ladyaniko.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zutara December Drabble Prompt Day 11: Falling With You

* * *

Katara has been on his ship, as his prisoner, for three days.

Zuko makes a point to personally visit her on every one of them, but she only speaks with him on the third. Before that she’d turned to face the wall and ignored him completely, something that makes him more furious than it should, for reasons he can't quite comprehend.

“Why are you doing this?” she demands on day three, almost right when he walks in the brig. Currently she’s his only prisoner, huddled in the corner of her cell.

“Doing what?” he drawls. He’s rather disconcerted that she seems to not be cowed even in the slightest by her captivity, but he tries to push that away. He’s in control now. The trip out to the uncharted waters has been easier than expected so far.

Everything is going according to plan.

“Helping him. Your father.”

“Not that I expect you to understand, but I’m doing this to regain my throne.” Zuko’s voice is hard.

“Don’t you have a sister?” Katara’s face is shrewd, and Zuko blanches before he carefully rearranges his face to something neutral.

“I am the eldest,” Zuko says furiously. “I would be the heir.”

_My father wouldn’t restore my honor and still give the throne to Azula. He wouldn’t._

“If you say so,” Katara says, her voice now dangerously sweet.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?” Her eyes widen. Innocently. Yeah, right. Zuko knows better.

“You’re trying to manipulate me into helping you. My sister manipulated me too, you know. I’m not stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. And how am I manipulating you? I asked you directly to help me. You know I want that.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m trying to make you think about your actions. I’m asking why you make the choices you do, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko has a sudden image of his Uncle Iroh’s face in his mind; he flinches automatically away, a burning sensation creeping into his chest and eyes. He ignores it. There’s no good thinking about him now. He’s dead, killed by rival pirates nearly a year ago, and he’s not here to help Zuko anymore. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Zuko snaps, glaring at her.

“Call you what?”

“Prince. I told you that I’m not a prince. Are you mocking me?”

Katara tilts her head. “Is that not what you want to be? I am trying to respect you.” Somehow Zuko doubts this, even though she looks extremely sincere when she says it. “And,” she says, “I think you fit the title quite nicely.”

“What does that even mean?” He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t play into the conversation she wants.

Katara gives him a small smile. “I’ve heard you’re a good and merciful Captain. You aren’t unnecessarily violent, even as a pirate.” She tilts her head even further, her smile widening. “And you’re very striking, which doesn’t hurt the impression of princeliness either.”

Zuko feels a dull flush creeping into his cheeks, opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

She laughs. “Are you not used to being complimented, Prince Zuko?”

Automatically, one of his hands raises up to touch his scar and he swallows hard. He sees Katara’s eyes widen, and something like pity and sympathy fill them, and Zuko scowls. “You _are_ manipulating and mocking me,” he growls. He curls his hands into fists at his sides.

“I assure you that I’m not.” Her voice is soft. He hates it. It makes his chest ache.

He wishes he could believe her.

“Why are you taking the time to visit me in my cell?” she presses. “Surely you’re not coming here for your enjoyment. What do you want?”

“I want—” Zuko pauses, unsure whether he wants to move forward with his plan anymore. His Uncle Iroh’s face drifts in front of his mind’s eye once more, and he hears his voice, his insistence that learning from the other elements makes you strong. And right now, if Zuko is to meet the Dragon God, God of the Ocean, he may need extra knowledge in the element of water.

Quite lucky, really, that he was able to capture Katara.

“Out with it,” she says.

Zuko spins to face her. “I want to train with you. I want us to spar. Guards would be surrounding us. This time if you try to escape I will explicitly tell them to capture you dead or alive, so I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”

Katara’s face flickers with surprise. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” Zuko asks roughly.

It’s silent for a beat as they assess each other.

“I accept,” says Katara. “If only because I want to stretch my muscles after sitting in this cell.”

Zuko nods curtly. “Very well. We will train during the day, when you are at your weakest. On the deck. My guards will fetch you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.”

He just shoots her a look of irritation, trying not to notice that despite sitting in a filthy cell she still looks very pretty, before sweeping out of the brig.

* * *

But on their first training day, Katara is brought out and stood across from him, and they are unable to even get her handcuffs off before one of the sentries sitting far above deck shouts down to Zuko. “Captain! Storm clouds are approaching! Bad ones!”

“Shit,” Zuko mutters. “Take her back to the brig,” he tells his guards, and they move to take her shoulders and lead her away.

But Katara struggles, trying to dig her heels into the wooden deck. “Wait,” she says desperately. “Wait. I can help. Remove my cuffs, and I can try to protect the ship with my bending. No one has to be harmed.”

He eyes her a moment. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can probably never know,” she says bluntly. “But I’m on this ship too, so I’m just as invested as getting through the storm as you, aren’t I?”

Zuko sighs. “Fine. Guards—remove her restraints. She can’t get far out here anyway.”

The guards shoot him an uneasy look, but they obey.

Katara flexes her fingers and everyone waits, tense, arms raised. But she doesn’t attack. She just smiles at Zuko. “Thank you,” she says, softly, much softer than Zuko would like. He just gives her a brusque nod and looks away.

* * *

The storm is raging. The ship is rocking.

Katara stands near the edge of the ship and Zuko watches her carefully, but she seems fully concentrated on controlling the waves. She cannot control them all, but she comes quite close. It’s incredible, actually, how powerful she is.

The crew is rushing about the boat, attempting to steer safely through the storm.

There’s a sudden shout from the opposite side of the deck, and Zuko’s head whips over.

“Man overboard!” one of the crew yells frantically, gesturing toward Zuko. “Man overboard!”

Zuko is there in seconds, leaving Katara behind. He’ll just have to trust that she won’t try and escape. And even if she does, where will she go anyway in this storm, in the middle of the ocean? He doubts even someone as powerful as her could get herself all the way to shore. He scrambles to stand on the edge of the deck, gripping tightly to some netting, desperately trying to scan the dark waters and see his missing crew member. To his surprise, another figure appears beside him, also balancing carefully on the side.

“Do you see him? I could bend him in.” Katara’s hair is blowing in the wind. She looks wild, a fierce determination blazing in her eyes. She wants to lose someone just as little as Zuko does. He doesn’t contemplate this much. He doesn’t want to contemplate the flashes of compassion he’s seen from her, because they can’t be real.

She is dangerous. She is far too dangerous to be trusted.

“Not yet,” Zuko rasps, still scanning desperately.

He’s so absorbed in peering into the water that he doesn’t hear approaching footsteps behind him.

Many things happen at once.

Katara shouts, “There!”, and she’s pointing back, at a bobbing head that is barely able to continue treading the stormy seas. She raises her arms, perhaps to bend him in, but suddenly there’s a harsh shove right in the middle of Zuko’s back. He cries out, his feet slipping, unable to keep his balance. He hears some of his crew shouting, and a struggle going on behind him, but he also hears Katara.

“ _Prince Zuko_!” She sounds frightened. He’s never heard her sound frightened before. He hadn’t thought it possible. A small hand wraps around his forearm, but he’s already pitching off the side.

And then she’s falling with him as well, right into the stormy depths of the water below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come join me in the void, if you so desire](https://ladyaniko.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zutara December Drabble Prompt, Day 15: Breathless

* * *

Zuko crashes into the cold water, thrashing for a moment in the intense rolling of the waves, trying to get his bearings. Zuko is an excellent swimmer, but only when he knows which way is up and which way is down. It’s too dark. The water is too violent. He can’t see.

But suddenly there’s a whirlpool around him. The water is churning. A hand curls around his torso. He feels hair against his face and he knows who it is, even if he can see nothing in the blackness of the deep. Zuko feels himself propelled away, and then he’s crashing above the surface, a tornado of water swirling below him and Katara beside him, her face lined with determination.

Katara’s bending turns to a wave, and she rides it with him all the way back to his ship, crashing upon the deck among the yells of Zuko’s crew. “You were pushed. There’s a mutiny on your ship,” she tells him, and then she’s diving off the side of the ship again.

“ _Wait_ —!” Zuko steps after her, tries to catch her arm, but it’s too late. He sees the swirling water rise up again, and Katara in the middle as she glides smoothly out to sea, toward the crew member that had fallen overboard. Zuko is filled with an inexplicable relief, but he cannot dwell on it. One of his crew members attacks him, and it takes everything Zuko has to block it.

With a furious yell, he joins the fight that is still happening on the deck.

It’s easy to notice Katara’s return. She crashes back to deck with another wave and the rescued crew member. The force of it sends men careening about, slipping and sliding and trying to hold onto something as the storm also still rocks the boat. She easily subdues three of the rebels with a sweep of her hand, a wave that turns to ice, and lodges them against the side of Zuko’s quarters. She does it again, and again, and then she’s back to keeping waves off the deck from the storm, allowing Zuko and those that remain loyal to him to finish quelling the mutiny. By the time they’re out of the storm and the rain s gently drizzling, Zuko is sending all of them to the brig.

Zuko pants from the fight, clutching at a burn in his side.

“Here.” Katara is suddenly before him, pulling at his shirt, summoning water from the ocean, and holding it over his burn wound. He’s too numb and surprised to stop her, and looks down in awe when he sees that she has healed him. She, too, is struggling to catch her breath, and as soon as she’s done she leans against the nearest crate, her chest heaving as she tries to get more air.

“Thank—you,” Zuko gasps. He straightens up.

“You’re welcome.” She sounds breathless.

Zuko thinks back to seeing her fight. She’d subdued most of the rebels entirely on her own. He’d never seen anything like it. She’s absolutely ferocious, and Zuko knows now more than ever that his Uncle had been absolutely right about studying other styles.

“That was—your bending—” Zuko doesn’t know what to say. He just stares at her, both astonished and wary.

“I’m quite good, yes,” Katara replies, sounding a little amused. “Don’t be so surprised, Prince Zuko.”

She stands up straight again and turns to face him. She takes a purposeful step forward.

Her eyes are on his mouth. Her lashes are extremely long, and there are water droplets clinging to them. Her wet clothes are tight around her body. It is very, very bad that he is noticing these things.

Zuko quickly coughs and turns away. “Guards,” he mutters, “Put Katara in cuffs again, but draw her a warm bath and bring her dry and comfortable clothes. After, bring her to my quarters.”

“Yes, Captain.” Three of them rush over and approach Katara with some trepidation—Zuko watches, too, half expecting her to resist. But she doesn’t. Her shoulders slump, and she looks at Zuko with something like reproach and sadness in those big blue eyes, and that same something twists his stomach again. He thinks it might be guilt. But he shouldn’t be guilty. She is his prisoner, even if she helped.

Still, as they lead her away, Zuko cannot get rid of the churning feeling in his gut.

* * *

When the knock sounds on his door announcing Katara’s arrival, the food for dinner is ready and laid out on the table. Tempting tendrils of steam are rising up from the plates, nearly making Zuko’s mouth water. He’s starving after the stress of the day.

He hopes a storm and a mutiny are his biggest obstacles until he reaches his goal.

The guards bring Katara inside and bow before ducking out, and for a moment Zuko just stares at her.

The clothes are normally for his crew, but they suit her. He has the feeling that everything suits her. Her hair is still partially wet, hanging down her back, and she’s watching him with a look he can’t quite interpret. And then she smiles teasingly. “Is this a date, Prince Zuko?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on her, walking over to his chair. “No. Sit.”

Katara’s smile just widens as she comes forward to sit down in the other chair right beside his, despite the fact that there are many others to choose from. “Are you certain? This is all very fancy.”

“It’s just a thank you for your help,” Zuko says curtly. “Don’t get any other ideas.”

“Could I ask for something else, too? As a thank you?”

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut a moment before he opens them to narrow his eyes at her. “What?”

Katara’s lashes flutter as she gives him a coy look. It sends Zuko’s heart careening into his throat, especially when she reaches out with her cuffed hands and covers one of his. His throat is extremely dry and all his instincts tell him to pull away, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

There’s a sudden craving on her face that makes him both want to stand up and dash out of the room and yank her closer.

He can’t breathe.

This is bad. A bad idea.

She is very, very dangerous.

“Kiss me, Prince Zuko?” she breathes hopefully, her gaze burning up and into his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come join me in the void, if you so desire](https://ladyaniko.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Day 16: Do You Feel Me?

* * *

When he says nothing, she starts to lean forward. Just slightly. She’s still looking up at him.

Damn those infernal, distracting eyes.

Suddenly, Zuko yanks his hand away and turns his head. “No. Stop. I know what you’re doing.”

She scoffs. “And what is it that I’m doing?”

“You’re tricking me. You’re using your—your womanly charms to try and—and distract me, or make me weak for you—”

Katara just laughs, and Zuko closes his mouth abruptly, throwing her a look of supreme fury. “That’s not what I’m doing,” she says. “But would it work? Do you find me charming?” She flutters her eyelashes again.

Zuko looks away and releases a long, slow breath through his teeth. “Stop it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Zuko grits his teeth so hard it hurts. “Perhaps I should send you back to your cell without dinner.”

“I think you’re far too honorable for that.”

He throws her a sharp look, but she doesn’t seem to be mocking the idea of his honor. On the contrary, she’s staring at him rather seriously now. “I just rather like the look of your mouth, and I want a handsome man to kiss me. Why can rivals not sometimes have a bit of fun? I am under no illusions it would mean anything else or that you’ll change what you’re doing because of it. I know where we stand.”

“Handsome.” He sneers at her. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”

Katara blinks. “What?” She looks genuinely surprised.

_Don’t fall for it. You saw her bending. She said it herself—she’s your rival. She’s trying to destroy you._

“You’re trying to tell me you want the banished, dishonorable _non-_ prince with a face like _this_ —” he gestures bitterly toward his scar “—to kiss _you_?” He’s breathing hard now. “ _You_ , who looks like you’re straight out of some sort of fairy tale? You, who wants me to fail at my current mission? Sorry, but you’ll have to try a bit harder, Katara.” His mouth twists around her name. “I’m not stupid.”

Her lips part. She appears thunderstruck. And then she leans forward, hovering just before his face. Zuko stops breathing again.

“But I do think you’re very handsome,” she says. “And I do very, very much want to kiss you.” Slowly, she raises her hands up, the cuffs rattling. For the second time, she reaches out tentatively to touch his scar. And for the second time, even though Zuko doesn’t know why, he allows her to touch it.

“Do you have feeling there?” she whispers. “Can you feel me when I touch it? Or have you lost feeling?”

“No.” His voice is hoarse. “I lost feeling. My ear and eye on that side don’t work as well either.” He should really shove her away. He shouldn’t have even said that. He’s revealing a weakness to her, but she doesn’t look triumphant as she probably should. In fact, that burning compassion flickers in her eyes again.

“I wish I had some spirit water. I could try to heal it for you.” Her hand drops. “Not that it matters. It’s part of you.”

Zuko swallows. “It’s a curse. The mark of my dishonor.”

“I disagree. I think it’s the mark of your father’s dishonor.” She suddenly looks furious. “Scarring a young boy. He’s a monster.”

“Don’t talk about my father like that,” Zuko snaps. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’ll talk about him however I please,” Katara shoots back. She’s still only inches from his face. Her eyes are sparking. Her fingers are clenched together in her cuffs, and there’s a faint shaking of irritation in her body as she glares up at him.

Zuko doesn’t know what compels him to do it. But before he knows it he’s curving his hand around the back of her neck, tugging her forward forcefully with a little growl of determination, and kissing her.

Katara’s lips are as soft as they look. She makes a sound that is both surprised and delighted in the back of her throat that sends his blood rushing south; and then she melts against him, her hands coming up to bunch into his shirt. It is not gentle. It is a flurry of lips and tongue and teeth, aggressive and lustful, and when she moves toward his chair, still kissing him furiously, and starts to settle in his lap, Zuko doesn’t protest.

In fact he lets out a delighted little groan at the feeling of his body against hers. It’s been a long time. Too long.

 _This is a bad idea_ , his mind chants. _Bad, bad idea. You should stop this immediately._ _One kiss is bad enough. But this—_

Zuko ignores his good sense. Something almost wild has come over him. He presses his lips into her neck when she tilts her head back with a sigh, pushing her hips closer to his; he nips at her skin, at her lips. His hand trails questioningly over her shirt buttons and she tips back her head again, pressing forward and wordlessly communicating that yes, it is just fine if he undresses her, more than fine, actually, and that he should really just get on with it.

Zuko fumbles hazily into his shirt pocket, wrenching out the key to her cuffs. It feels wrong having her locked up like this.

_Bad idea. Bad, bad idea—_

As soon as her hands are free she starts to pull off his clothes. He stands up, pulling her with him, and it doesn’t take them long to yank the rest of their fabrics off each other. Katara takes his hand and puts it firmly between her legs.

Zuko nearly loses his mind when he feels that she is already more than ready for him.

“Oh yes,” Katara is whispering in his ear, as he curves a finger inside her. “That’s—right there—”

This whole situation is bizarre. Unprecedented. Zuko doesn’t care. Her eyes have been haunting him for weeks and now he wants them to go blank because of him.

Zuko spins and roughly lays her out on his desk, sending papers scattering. She makes that ecstatic little sound again in her throat that lights his nerves on fire. He’s probably going to regret this after. But right now he’s going to finally get rid of this nagging craving for her. He will get her out of his system and it will fix this and he’ll finally be able to think clearly around her. His previous hunger is forgotten, replaced by a new sort entirely. He’s going to have her right here on this desk, and he’s going to relish it when he teases her to her peak, metaphorically bringing her to her knees. Making her as weak as she makes him feel.

Her eyes go dull with exhiliration when he pushes into her, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

Zuko’s whole body shudders as he struggles to keep his composure.

“ _Oh_ —Prince Zuko,” she breathes, wriggling underneath him.

He finds that he doesn’t mind when she uses his stripped title, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Day 17 Prompt (though admittedly very late): Feeling Sentimental

* * *

Zuko thought he would have reached the place were the dragon god dwells by now. He thought the tide jewels would have been his by now.

It’s been too long.

The books and maps tell him that there’s a place in the ocean where the water begins to swirl like a vortex; the maps are difficult to read, riddled with codes and unclear language, puzzles and tests. There are multiple coordinate points he's decided could be the place, but Zuko is determined to try them all. The last set of coordinates had taken them to a place so far away that his crew had not seen land for weeks.

Zuko knows they’re beginning to doubt him.

But he can’t doubt it now. Not now, with his chance to return home, to restore his honor, regain his throne. He has to keep trying, even if it takes him months. Even if those months will still be in the presence of Katara, who Zuko is finding to be increasingly distracting.

This is particularly frustrating given that he had thought their tryst might get her out of his system. That it may loosen her power over him, if you will. “This won’t happen again,” he’d told her after he’d straightened from the desk and started to pull his trousers back on.

Katara had made no move to dress, instead choosing to remain alluringly sprawled out on the smooth, expensive wood. Zuko very determinedly did not look between her legs, or at her thighs, or at her breasts, or—any part of her, really. He knew better. “Fine,” she’d said contentedly, but her eyes had glinted at him in a way that suggested she didn’t believe him at all.

Two days later he’d fucked her in his private shower. Twice.

Four days after that, still half convinced he was just purging his less than desirable need for her out of his bloodstream, she’d rode him on his chair so enthusiastically he’d actually been sore afterward. Three more run-ins later and Zuko had finally come to terms with the fact that sleeping with her had just become a reality of his life on this ship, and he’d slowly but surely just allowed himself to give in to the insanity. Especially because there were regular, stress-reducing orgasms involved. And more than that, she was intelligent. Empathetic. When the topic was something far away from their conflicting interests, he actually liked talking to her. It's a strange thing to feel so seen by someone who should be your enemy.

Still, over the weeks he’d never once taken her to his bed.

He took her bent over his desk. On chairs. Against walls. Even sprawled on the floor, the planks hard against his shoulder-blades as he pulled her close to his chest and pushed his hips up in time with her gasps.

How they’d ended up in his bed tonight, then, was something of a mystery, and one that he wasn’t up for pondering in his state of post-coital relaxation. She’d rolled off him after and now lay on his outstretched arm, looking delightfully sated. When she was like this, looking calm and happy, he was always tempted to run his fingers through her hair, even if doing so outside of sex felt too intimate.

Zuko is especially tempted now, with her curls sprawled out on his pillow like a halo.

He restrains himself, but a few minutes later, when she stands and begins to dress, he can’t quite seem to restrain the next unsavory words from tumbling out of mouth. “You could stay, you know.”

She freezes, the bare muscles around her shoulders visibly tensing. Zuko had learned to be perceptive or else he wouldn't have seen it. But her voice is light. Amused. “No thanks.”

Zuko sits up, eyes dragging over her curves as she slides into her wrappings. He realizes, with a dawning horror, that he really, really wants her to stay, and not just for more orgasms or the distinct pleasure of sleeping in the same bed with a nude, warm, and beautiful woman. He wants her _company_.

“Do you think it would be different?” he blurts out, and this finally makes her turn.

“What?” Katara’s face is cautious; more guarded than he’s ever seen it.

“I just meant—if the world was different—for us—”

His voice dies in his throat as Katara arches a brow and begins to slide her shirt on. “Feeling sentimental today, Prince Zuko?”

Zuko scowls. “I just wanted to know if circumstances were different—”

“Circumstances? It’s not about _circumstances_ , Zuko.” She finishes buttoning her shirt and moves to her trousers, a deep frown on her face. He notes that she’s refusing to meet his eye, something she never had a problem doing before. She’d always met his gaze unabashedly.

“Then what’s it about?”

“Seriously?” She scoffs. “Look, you know what this thing is. We can stop or we can continue, but either way we don’t need to discuss _this_ —” she gestures back and forth between them “—any further.”

“So it’s all just bed warming? You can really just keep on separating so easily?” Zuko feels anger rising in his chest, restricting his airways.

Katara stops halfway to the door. She turns her head, and Zuko can only poorly make out half her face in the dim light, but he thinks he may have seen a flash of sadness cross her features. “Not always,” she mutters, and then she leaves without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final two chapters should be out within a week. Thanks for reading!
> 
> [You can also find me on Tumblr.😊](https://ladyaniko.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zutara Drabble December Day 20 Prompt: So Sublime

* * *

Eventually, after a few days, Zuko misses her too much.

He has his guards bring her for another dinner in his cabin. Katara looks wary when she enters, but he’s determined to put her at ease. “I don’t want to stop. Don't worry. I know what this is,” Zuko tells her, but everything he feels in the week after that points to the opposite.

He eats dinner with her and marvels at her laugh. When he pulls her to his bed, his fingertips drag over her bare skin more slowly, more methodically. He’s cataloging something that he wants to keep. The desire to purge her out of his system has vanished completely.

He just wants to keep her.

She’s sublime, transcendent, even addicting. He suspects that she can feel the shift in him, even if he doesn’t say anything further on the matter. She’d said that she doesn't want to discuss whatever is happening between them further, but he doesn't need to say anything for her to know that his want for her somehow keeps intensifying. He wants her to stay in his bed overnight, just once. Then he wants her there every night. Then he just wants her around him as much as possible.

And instead of telling her, he’s wordlessly tender with her.

He takes his time when he's with her. He undresses her slowly, kisses and licks every inch of her skin. When her lips are on his own he holds her face and kisses her like it’s the last time he'll ever be allowed to do so. When she moves to turn over and let him enter her from behind, his hands still her hips and keep her facing him instead, pulling every line of her body against his and slanting his mouth to hers as he sinks into her. Once, he presses his forehead to hers and intertwines their fingers as he pushes her into his mattress. Her eyes are bright and blue and they widen imperceptibly when he does this; but then he speeds up, tilts her hips up to hit a certain angle, and she’s crying out and the moment passes, giving way to the steady build and the eventual shatter of simultaneous release.

Zuko doesn’t pull out or away. He stays there, breathing heavily, breathing her in, before he finally leans back just enough to start kissing her face.

He kisses across both cheekbones. Across one side of her jaw. And then he returns to her lips, kissing her slowly and softly until she breaks away with a little gasp. “Stop,” she tells him, and he opens his eyes at the hoarseness he hears in her voice. “Stop—doing that.”

“Kissing you?”

Katara pushes at his chest and Zuko immediately, albeit reluctantly, pulls away and shifts to lay beside her. Her chest is heaving and there are tears in her eyes. “Not that,” she says. “Or well—sort of that.” She scowls. “You know what. You’re being—intimate.”

Something heavy has settled into his chest this time. He could deny it, but there’s no point. “I can’t help it.”

Katara looks sharply at him. “Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t.” He stares at her, his eyes pleading. “I think I’m falling in—”

“Don’t.” Her tone is even sharper. She’s already moving to leave the bed.

The heaviness in Zuko has warped to panic, and he reaches almost blindly for Katara's wrist. When he misses it, instead snatching only at thin air, he also scrambles to stand up, hovering behind her as she reaches for her discarded clothes. “Tell me you feel nothing,” he challenges.

She doesn’t reply. Her fingers are trembling around the shirt she’s putting on.

Emboldened, Zuko continues, stepping closer until his bare chest brushes against her spine. “You do,” he murmurs, tentatively reaching out to touch her hip. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away, and his fingers tighten around her. “Am I wrong?”

Katara whirls around. Her eyes are bright again, but not the same sort of bright they are after she comes, or when she’s excited about something. It’s the glassy sort of bright that precludes tears, even if Zuko can no longer see traces of them gathering in her eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you?” she says roughly, and Zuko takes a surprised step back from her fury. But she just steps forward, eyes narrowing. “Anything that involves being with me has to fit into your life, doesn’t it? You want me, but not more than your mission to help your father. You want _me_ to be with _you_. That’s not love.”

Zuko swallows. “My father—”

“—is a massive asshole,” says Katara fiercely. “And if you can’t learn to see that then I can’t help you, Zuko.” Her face softens; her eyes range briefly over his scar. “I know you’ve been conditioned a certain way,” she says, “But you are free to choose, you know. You are. You talk about circumstances, but you could just _change_ them with your choices, if you wanted to.” She touches his face, fingers caressing his jaw. And then she sighs. “But that's it, isn't it? You don’t want to, do you?”

Katara steps back and bends, picking up her boots and trousers and putting them on more aggressively than necessary.

Zuko finally finds his voice. “Katara—”

“Don’t,” she says again, though it’s more sad than it is sharp.

And then, once again, she’s gone, and she has left Zuko feeling more muddled than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final part should post tomorrow! Thank you for reading.🙂
> 
> You can also find me [on Tumblr.](https://ladyaniko.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zutara Drabble December Day 22 Prompt: Stay
> 
> Well, I'm only *checks notes* a whole month late with finishing out the drabble prompts. But here is the final part. Enjoy!

* * *

The following night Zuko jolts awake to a deafening, crunching crash.

It rocks the entire ship and throws him right out of his bed. After he’s finally able to stand he’s forced to stagger across the floor and nearly falls to the ground when there’s another crash, and another. Finally, the ship comes to a resounding, ominous halt.

“Fuck,” Zuko curses, snatching his trousers and clumsily pulling them on as he rushes to his door.

He’s immediately bathed in the powerful, bright light of the full moon. It’s late. That means there aren’t many people on duty that could be responsible for—

A strangled gasp leaves his mouth as he locates the source of the commotion.

The ship has crashed, and it’s bad. It’s very, very bad.

There’s an island here, out in the middle of the sea. Zuko remembers now how he saw it on his maps; some small, rocky, insignificant little place that was noted to have only animal inhabitants and nothing else of real value. The ship has steered straight into the jagged cliffs, damaging the entire front right side. There are likely leaks happening below deck.

They’ve been marooned.

Their only hope now is to slowly gather materials from this island and carry out repairs on their own, which will likely take months, especially if the rations and storage have been flooded and the crew has to hunt and forage to feed themselves. The small rescue boats will not get them anywhere. The tide will just push them right back to the island's jagged shores.

Zuko’s fingertips begin to smoke and his muscles vibrate with rage.

“Captain!” It’s the crew member in charge of night navigation. His eyes are wild, his face nervous. “I lost control of the steering! It all happened so fast—there was a giant wave, pushed us straight here to the cliffs, nothing I could do—”

“What? There's no storm," Zuko snarls, and indeed, the sky is clear as can be. “What do you mean, a ‘giant wave’?”

More of his crew is already appearing on the deck, trying to see what’s happened. Zuko hears shouts of anger and disappointment and dismay. “Check the lower levels,” he commands to some that have gathered around him. “We need to know just how much damage we’re dealing with. If there’s extreme flooding, we need to—”

“Captain!” Yet another crew member is sprinting toward him. There’s too much happening. Zuko squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds, trying to gather himself, and then opens them. “There were shouts coming from the brig! I went to check and saw that all the guards have been locked up! Shall I release them?”

“Of course you should release them,” Zuko snaps. “What—” He stops. Comprehension hits him harder than the ship that has just smashed into the rocks. The crew member opens his mouth but Zuko already knows exactly what will be said before he even hears it.

“The water-bender,” continues his crew member. “She’s gone. They’re all locked in her cell instead, Captain.”

Zuko struggles through the fog of numb panic that has clouded his mind. He must appear in control. His crew is watching him for instruction. “Find her,” he manages to get out. “Go scour all levels below deck. Now.”

His men scatter. Zuko is left standing there alone. He’s glad for it. He’s shaking and feeling as though someone has punched a hole right through his chest. But he isn’t alone for long.

“I’m sorry, Prince Zuko,” says a soft voice from behind him after a few moments, and Zuko whirls, his eyes blazing. He automatically raises his arms, drops his knees into a bending stance and prepares to strike. But Katara does not appear as though she’s about to fight him. She’s standing there on the rail, her arms at her sides. Her trousers are wet. It appears as though she's just rode a wave up to the rail from the water below. There's a sadness on her face that reminds him of the last time he’d seen her, when she’d left his bed.

He can’t attack her. His brain is urging him to do it but his muscles won’t follow through.

“You crashed my ship.” His voice is flat. Surprisingly calm and matter-of-fact.

“Yes.” She’s watching him with something like sympathy.

“How did you escape your cell?” Drawing air into his lungs is painful. His chest is constricting.

“You already know that I can bend all things that contain enough water, Prince Zuko.”

“We held you with standard water-bender procedure! How—” His words drown out with another gasp as he feels his right arm begin to twist against his will. Katara has bent her knees and has one palm up, her fingers curled; Zuko feels the blood in his arm straining against his veins, watches in horror as his arm twists and jerks perversely at his side. “You bend blood,” he chokes out, eyes widening.

She straightens up. Her hands fall to her sides, and Zuko’s arm goes limp. He flexes his fingers experimentally, and finds with relief that he is controlling the movement again. When he fully meets her gaze once more, he’s struck by how she still looks so sad.

“You could do this the whole time,” Zuko realizes. “You planned this from the beginning. You became my prisoner on purpose.”

“Yes,” says Katara simply. “I told you that I’m always one step ahead of you, Prince Zuko. I warned you.” She tilts her head. He rushes over to the railing, but to his surprise she doesn’t stop him. She could. He knows now how easily she could.

She doesn’t even stop him when he reaches for her wrist. “Wait,” he says. “Please.”

Katara’s eyes drift downward, and he follows her gaze. There’s an escape boat already waiting in the dark waters below, bobbing innocently.

She’s going to produce her own waves and use it to leave. She’s going to leave them all here.

“Stay,” Zuko pleads. “Please, Katara. Stay.”

Katara fixes him with an even look. Her eyes are bright with the backdrop of the dark sky behind her. Her hair is blowing in the wind. She looks fierce standing there, above him, on the rail. But when he looks closer he can see tears in the corners of her eyes. “You’ll join me?” she asks. “Help protect my tribes? Make sure your father never gets his hands on the tide jewels?”

Zuko hesitates.

For a very brief moment, Zuko toys with the idea of doing so in his mind. Being with her. Turning on his father. His throne and his honor gone forever. It's terrifying, but he lets himself actually consider what that might mean for the first time. But his hesitation and something on his face, it seems, is enough of an answer for Katara. She just gives him a rueful, knowing smile. “Yes, I thought so,” she whispers. She reaches up and very gently touches his face. “You’re not ready to give that up, are you? You don’t realize what you could be, do you?”

“Stay,” Zuko repeats, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. He needs her. He needs her here. She’s intertwined his way into his chest and his heart like a species of invasive vine, and even if she leaves and he attempts to cut and claw her out Zuko knows that he won’t succeed.

“No,” she says, looking away. Her lips are trembling. “I’m sorry, Zuko.”

His grip tightens on her wrist. His voice gets desperate. “Katara—”

She wrenches out of his grasp, breathing more heavily. “If it helps,” she murmurs, “It wasn’t nothing. Not for me.”

There’s only moments before his crew returns from their search of the ship. He has only moments to convince her. He has to convince her. She can't leave. But he finds he can’t say anything at all. He can only gape at her, drinking in her face, memorizing her.

Katara leans forward and kisses him. It’s brief. He barely gets a taste of her, and he knows it’s a goodbye.

“No,” Zuko says. “Please. I think I love you.”

“You don’t. I promise you don't. But it wasn’t nothing,” she repeats softly.

And then she turns and dives gracefully off the side of the boat. All Zuko can do is watch as she climbs up into the waiting escape boat and then creates a wave to propel herself away. She’s won.

She's captured his heart and now she’ll capture the jewels. She’s ruined him.

She’s won.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this little niche fic I think you're the real MVP. So a gigantic thank you for being here and an extra hug if you showed some love. If you commented, I treasure every single one.
> 
> If you want to chat or come shout at me, you can also find me over [on Tumblr.😊](https://ladyaniko.tumblr.com/)


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